Horus and Set
by Wofl
Summary: Rivals and...lovers? HeiAl. Rated M for implied content. Angst.


Title: Horus and Set  
Author: **wofliron**  
Pairing: Al/Hei  
Rating: R  
Warnings: love triangle-ish o.O, limeish  
Notes: another fic for **20inkspots** wheee. umm see footnotes. Unbetaed, concrit, corrections, suggestions welcomed

* * *

It's halfway through the afternoon by the time Alfons realizes that dinner is fast approaching and that they are in desperate need of groceries. He sighs at the near-empty cupboards (there are a few cans of unidentifiable origin; Alfons suspects they've been there for years before he moved in) and takes an inventory of what he needs to buy. He knows the market will close in a couple hours, so he rifles through the icebox and storage bins hastily. 

He scribbles a few essentials hurriedly into the back of what he takes to be scrap paper. It is not until he's written the words _ground beef _near the bottom and flips the paper over to continue his list on the other side that he discovers that the page is actually a misplaced sheet of Edward's research notes. He winces and knows that the smaller boy will be furious with him if he discovers that Alfons has desecrated is precious research; especially since the word _milk _ is scrawled somewhere near the top of the page.

With a nervous glance towards kitchen entrance, he listens for the sounds of approaching footsteps. He hears none, laughter drifting through the hallway from the living room that doubled as a study, and he relaxes, minutely. He hastily folds the paper in two, grocery list facing outward to hide the evidence. With one last peek into the icebox, he writes_ eggs _ in the margins and fetches his spring coat from the rack situated in the corner of the room. He shrugs it over his shoulders as he makes his way down the hall.

He steps into the living room, squinting in the low light. He never can understand why Edward insists on keeping the blinds closed all the time. He finds it dreary and depression and unimaginably tough on the eyes but if he opens them, Edward will grouse and fidget, so he learns to live with closed curtains.

His eyes adjust and three figures swim into focus. Edward it sitting on the couch, head resting in his little brother's lap, his arms stretched above him in some animated retelling of one adventure or another. Noah is sitting in the nearby armchair, the last vestiges of their laughter leaving a lingering smile etched across her face. And finally, there is Alphonse.

It's always a shock when he catches sight of the boy. It's almost like looking in a mirror that broke five years ago, stuck with an outdated image of him that he can't shake. It's eerie, but when those mossy colored eyes soften and the younger boy offers him a soft smile that any girl would swoon for, he can't bring himself to hold a grudge against the boy for having the same face.

Whatever tale Edward had been telling prior to his arrival, it has ceased to be told. The oldest of the four has set up, arms draped over the back of the couch, face settled between the two appendages as he peers at Alfons curiously too.

Alfons chuckles nervously and clears his throat, a hand rubbing at the back of his neck as he steps further into the room and he scoops up the canvas bag they used to carry mail and groceries in. "We need groceries," he announces, sliding on his shoes.

"Kay," Edward replies simply, flopping back down into Alphonse's lap, one hand sending him a flippant wave. "So anyways, the Colonel was _furious_. Next thing we know, the hem of Havoc's pants are on fire and the man is _dancing _around the room, trying to put it out. We were all cracking up; Fuery laughed so hard he started to choke on his—huh?"

Edward cuts off abruptly as Alfons clears his throat and the boy sits back up, blinking confusedly towards Alfons. "Actually…err…I was hoping you'd come with me," he stammers awkwardly. It has been almost a month since Edward's brother came to live with them and they two had not parted from each other once, in all that time. Edward dragged Alphonse everywhere with him, and when Edward was not dragging his sibling, the younger boy was tailing his older brother like a lost puppy.

It had been almost endearing, at first, and Alfons couldn't help but be happy for his friend. He had spent two years searching for his sibling and now that the two have been reunited, Edward smiles so much more often. He seems brighter, more vibrant than he's ever been and for a time, Alfons could be happy knowing that Edward was happy.

But by this time, the routine is wearing thin. He is tired of never getting a moment alone with the person he has spent the last two years of his life with. He is annoyed, at first, but the annoyance gives way into a new and frightening emotion for Alfons.

Can it be that he is actually _jealous _of Alphonse Elric?

_No way._

"Yeah, sure," Ed grunts, heaving himself off of the dusty red sofa. He clings to the arm of the furniture for support while he steadies his footing and rubs absently at his right shoulder. He straightens, after a few seconds, and looks down at his sibling, still seated. "Com'on Al," he chirps, flashing that infallible grin and Alfons feels any traces of a smile leave his own visage.

"Actually," he ventures, voice barely a whisper, "I was kind of hoping it could be…y'know…just us?" Alfons ducks his head, feet shuffling over the hardwood floors in the awkward silence that ensues.

When he dares to look up again (really, has no choice but to look up, the silence has dragged on so long), Edward is shifting his gaze between the two of them, a bewildered, torn expression etched across his face. Alfons looks from him toward the couch and the icy stare that greets him could not possibly be mistaken for anything less that utter contempt.

"Al…" Edward stammers at last, and Alfons is not sure which of them he's addressing.

"Go ahead, Brother," Alphonse breaks in, a cheery smile that I certainly /I wasn't there an instant before plastered on. He flips a hand dismissively towards Edward. "I need to take a bath and wash my clothes anyway." He stands and takes the three steps necessary to bring him to his brother's side and embraces the shorter boy briefly. "Go have fun," he says, flashing a grin before removing himself from the gloom of the living room entirely.

By the time Edward has shrugged on his jacket and stepped into his shoes, Alfons can hear the screeching protests of the pipes in the bathroom.

--

There is a definite hint of fast-approaching summer in the air. Damp and warm, the breeze tickles through Alfons' hair and his lungs, surprisingly, do not protest when he inhales deeply, breath heaving out in a contented sigh.

His self-satisfaction only lasts as long as it takes Edward to close the front door, however. The instant the two step foot onto the pavement, paces brisk as they make their way north towards the marketplace, Ed turns to Alfons, brows knitted, the corners of his mouth twisting into a frown. "What was that?"

Alfons blinks. "What was what?"

"That!" Edward flails his good hand back towards their apartment and fixes Alfons with a wide-eyed stare. "You didn't want Al to come…. why?"

Alfons doesn't answer, at first. He turns away, looks at the trees that line the opposite side of the street, glances at his shoes and engrosses himself with the water drops that scatter every times he takes a step, anything so that he does not have to look at Ed. It's not that he doesn't like Alphonse, it's just that….

"Alfons?"

Another moment of silence, the buildings fading behind them in a nondescript blur as they continue along. Eventually, the taller boy gathers his courage and lifts his chin. He turns timidly towards Edward, making eye contact and is startled to see how those eyes have softened since he looked at them last. Edward has a look of gentle concern mixed with confusion.

"No reason, really," Alfons says shrugging. He tugs on the lapels of his jacket and crosses his arms across his chest. Beside him, he hears Edward scoff loudly, a harsh condescending sound.

"Don't lie to me," the shorter boy says, and Alfons feels the dig of Edward's elbow as the appendage burrows into Alfons' side. The taller boy winces and bats Edward away He rubs at the spot absently, and peers up at the unremarkable rooftops of the buildings they pass.

"I'm not sure, really," he says, honestly. "I guess I just…" he trails off, words lost somewhere between his heart and his mouth, "wanted to remember what it was like back when it was just to two of us."

Even in his head, it sounds stupid, and out loud, it is worse; sappy and childish and terrible and he fully expects Edward to laugh or scold him.

"Oh."

Alfons cringes, waits for the fallout, but nothing comes, just a gentle nudge as Edward missteps and staggers sideways. Suddenly, Ed's arm is pressed against his own, the closest to intimate they can get away with in public. "Oops," the older boy says, flashing him a grin.

If he didn't know any better, Alfons would have said that Edward had stumbled on purpose.

--

The rest of the trip is without incident. By splitting the list with Edward, they somehow manage to gather everything on the list before the stalls begin to close up for the night, though they have some difficulty relocating each other at the end of their unlikely scavenger hunt.

Finally, Alfons spots Ed being scolded in German by the woman at the fruit stall for touching before he paid. The younger boy laughs as he comes to stand at Ed's side. He flips the woman a few marks and drops some apples and a couple of pears into his bag. Edward scowls at his laughter and, before he can protest, snatches the grocery list from Alfons' fingers. "Is that everything? Can we go now?" he grumbles.

Alfons squeaks and tries to snatch the list back before Ed can flip it over. But he's too late; Edward smacks his hand away, wrinkles his nose at the list, peeks in the bag of groceries and then flips the paper over. "Edward, I'm really sorry?"

"Huh? For what?"

"Your research," Alfons shifts from foot to foot, "I didn't realize, and then it was on the table, and—" A look of dawning realization spreads across Ed's face and Alfons cringes.

For the second time that day, Edward surprises him.

The boy bursts out laughing. "What, you mean this?" Ed taps a finger against the paper and Alfons peers at it again. No, it hasn't changed. It's still a page of notes encoded, in typical Edward fashion, as a recipe for lemon squares. "Alfons, that's exactly what it says it is, those aren't my notes."

"What? But I thought.." He bites his lip, utterly perplexed.

"See here?" Ed points to the ingredients list at the top of the page. "That's how you can tell. With my notes, I always put the ingredients at the bottom to make sure I read the instructions first. This must be something of Al's or Noah's."

The older boy snickers for another moment more, and Alfons can't bring himself to mind because at least Ed isn't mad at him. He allows his good mood to return and shifts the grocery bag in his hands as he walks alongside Edward towards home.

"Speaking of Noah," Ed says a moment later, traces of mirth still in his voice, "she has a doctor's appointment tomorrow and I told her I'd take her. You'll keep an eye on Al for me, right?"

"Yeah, sure," Alfons agrees readily, but feels something turn sour in his stomach. Alone in the house with Alphonse? And for who knows long.

The thought alone is enough to ruin his previous good mood and he walks the rest of the way in a terse silence.

--

Alfons wakes up late, sunlight tickles his eyelids and he yawns as he sits up. The clock on the wall says it is eleven, but that cannot be right. Alfons hasn't gotten up later than eight-thirty in years.

He leaves the bedroom and finds the living room empty but hears sounds of dishes clanking in the kitchen. That can only be Alphonse; he's the only one among them who can cook a decent meal so Alfons avoids the room, for the moment, and opts instead for the vacant bathroom.

He takes his time in the shower, humming softly to himself as he scrubs his hair. There's still no sign of Edward or Noah when he exits the room, mist billowing and curling around his head when he opens the door, the tiny mirror over the sink fogged up with condensation and he recalls Edward's words from the day before, figures that they must still be out.

The sounds from the kitchen have faded away by the time he makes his way to the bedroom.

He hangs his towel on the hook on the back of the door and pads, naked, across the room towards the closed. His destination remains unattained, however, as a sudden force presses against his back until he is pinned against the wall. String, sleight hands turn him and Alfons stares down at his mysterious alter.

There is an odd look gleaming in the younger boy's eyes. He is panting, with exhilaration or effort, Alfons cannot tell, doesn't care to ask; and though the single arm splayed across his chest is painful, he does not push the boy away. Bewildered and confused, Alfons does nothing.

"Look," Alphonse says, when it's clear that Heiderich will not try to escape for fight back, "we need to talk."

"Apparently so," Alfons murmurs, suspended halfway between incredulity and sarcasm. He reaches up, snags the arm pressed flat across his torso and pries it away. Alphonse lets him, takes a step back, still panting. "Can it wait until I'm dressed?"

"Wha--? Oh!" Alphonse squeaks a bit and looks embarrassed; has the courtesy to look away as Alfons dresses himself.

Task completed, Alfons crosses to the bed, sinks down into it and Alphonse follows, perching on the edge like a nervous animal, ready for flight. Alfons notes that the boy has chosen a spot that puts a considerable distance between the two. He sighs, scoots closer, turning fully towards the shorter boy. "Look. This is probably as weird for you as it is for me."

Alphonse swallows, nods. He chances a glance towards Alfons. "Yeah," he manages, "it is."

A pregnant pause; Alphonse traces a finger over the quilt spread over the bed and Alfons watches the motes of dust flit through the sunbeam streaming in through the gap in the curtains.

"Just…it's weird. I came here because Brother was here. But then you were here too, and it's like…he thinks he has two brothers or something."

It's an awkward statement, no doubt, but Alfons finds himself far more comprehensive of it than many things Edward has said and done throughout the time they have spent together. "It's not every day you meet someone who you share a face with…."

"Exactly." Alphonse latches onto the statement with ferocity. "I don't know how much Brother has told you, but we've been through a lot together."

He pauses, peers across the bed and Alfons nods. "Yeah, I know. Edward used to never shut up about you. I was…kind of cute…at first, but then, well, to be honest, it got kind of annoying. I almost resented you, even though I had never met you or anything, just because he seemed to love you so much, maybe I was jealous of that. And then I thought, if he loved you so much, then why was he here and not with you" Alfons sighs. "He never I _would /I _ tell me how you two got separated, you know. I could only guess."

"I wasn't by choice, if that's what you mean." The younger boy's voice rises, straining and shaky, as if the words have brought some offense. He huffs loudly and turns away, takes a moment to compose himself. "Look, it's a long story, I wouldn't even know where to begin, but Brother and I…"

He trails off, gazing over Alfons' shoulder wistfully, eyes far off, caught in some distance remembrance. After a moment, he blinks, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Brother and I have always been there for each other. It was really hard, living without him."

Alfons nods, thoughts pausing on his own brother.

_"England," he'd said, talking a mile a minute." They offered me a scholarship!"_

_And he can get by on letters, he tells himself, comforted by his sibling's excited babblings about the things he is seeing, people he's meeting, and the _I miss you_'s scrawled at the end of every other paragraph, interspersed with _I wish you were here_'s make it okay, he tells himself. He doesn't allow himself to acknowledge the bitter thoughts that tell him that his brother does not miss him enough to come home, does not wish he was there enough to send him a ticket for the ferry. He tells himself how wonderful an opportunity it is for his brother, and he will be back when he finishes his schooling. He reminds himself that, together, they will send a rocket into space and be the famous Heiderich brothers and their names will go down in history, glory touched; shooting stars within their grasp.  
_

It has been more than two years since he has last seen a letter from his brother.

Edward, Alfons decides, must have been some divine power's sense of compensation.

He looks at Alphonse, who is worrying at his lip, fingers twitching in his lap, and wonders what it was like, not even knowing where your sibling was or why they had left. At least Alfons had known the reason for the separation.

"I know what it's like," he acquiesces, "I have a brother too."

The smaller boy looks startled. "You do?" He questions, one eyebrow quirking up, disappearing beneath his bangs. "Where is he then?"

"Gone away," he says wistfully, "Edward… he reminds me a lot of him. I guess that's why we got along so well."

And then the world is a rush of motion. Hands pin him, press him back, back until he is shoved painfully against the headboard, the younger boy's face dangerously close to his own. "What is it!" he hisses fervently moss-stone eyes piercing him, dissecting, calculating, puzzling out some fathomless mystery that has taken up residency in his head.

"What does my brother see in you?"

_ --that he doesn't see in me.  
_

That silent, unspoken, terrifying part two to an already loaded question, and no time. No time to answer because his mouth is suddenly full with an invading tongue, lips pressed roughly against his own and the unprecedented kiss gives Alfons no other choice but to melt in to it, press his own tongue against the younger boy's.

"You… and him; you did this too, didn't you?" Eyes narrow as Alphonse peers down at him, and Alfons feels as if he's being violated, not by the tongue that invaded his mouth or the fingers that are fisted in his shirt, but by Alphonse's I stare /I , fierce and intrusive.

He offers no confirmation or denial to the question, and after a moment, Alphonse snorts. "Of course you did."

No time to think, say, do, breathe, just touch; tentative at first, but swiftly growing bolder, fingers fumbling with buttons, desperate moans muffled in his mouth and Alfons tries not to think of how the boy on top of his is only thirteen, forces himself to forget that boy is probably fantasizing about his own brother as he rocks wantonly atop him.

Bodies press into the mattress, limbs curving, entwined in each other, and sex is not a gentle thing. It is rough, demanding; a hopeless search for something Alphonse will not find just by fucking the same person his brother has. If he is looking for insight into his brother's mind, lusts, loves, heart, he will not find it here, Alfons thinks.

But he will not say that. Not when Alphonse bends close, kisses him again and Alfons can taste desire, desperation, loathing.

The stifling sheets, there only to hinder or hide sacrilegious activities, slide, disheveled and rejected to the floor and there is nothing more divine than motion. Nerves to the muscles to the limbs to the entire body, one fluid motion, repeated, varied, and this, this miracle is called sex and it should be a sacred thing between a man and a woman, not a desperate act between two boys (not even men, not yet) one desperate for knowledge of something he can't understand, the other too weak to say no.

This, this is sin and horror and Alfons' one-way ticket to hell, he is sure of it. Really, he thinks he should feel worse about that, have some sort of remorse or guilt; but strangely enough, the only thing he can feel is an overwhelming sense of pity.

* * *

_ - Horus and Set refers to two egyptian gods who competed bitterly for the possesion of Egypt, at one point, they even used sex as a form of rivalry. For more information, see here: http/wofl-iron. _


End file.
